


Responsible Forever

by SilverWing15



Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [15]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Fluff, Feral Behavior, Feral Child Tommy, Feral Children, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Beta we die like nobody does in this AU, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Raccoon Innit, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Yeah I'm goign there, because I'm Kind like that, slaps roof of fic, somoene had to, taken well beyond its logical conclusion, this bad boy can fit so much family fluff in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWing15/pseuds/SilverWing15
Summary: “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”/////“So,” Techoblade says, slow and deliberate, his face shows clearly just how unbelievable he finds all of this, “you saw a boy last night, in the middle of the night, living with raccoons and eating our garbage?”“I know how insane it sounds,” Phil says, “but I know what I saw. We need to help him, who knows how long he’s been out here?”“Okay,” Wilbur interrupts, “let’s say that raccoon-boy is real. What is it you want us to do? We can’t go searching the woods for specific bunch of raccoons, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Phil but there are a lot of them out there.”“Going out and hunting him isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Techno says, “we have to let the raccoon-boy come to us. He’s already come once, you know how tenacious raccoons are. If they came to the garbage pit once, they’ll come again. We just have to set a trap.”“Those raccoons aren’t gonna know what fucking hit them,” Wilbur mutters.Or: RaccoonInnit taken well beyond its logical conclusion
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057121
Comments: 230
Kudos: 2690
Collections: Completed stories I've read, Crème de la crème of MCYT fics, Dream SMP Fics To Fill The Void In My Soul, Found family to make me feel something, mcyt favorites





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello I'm back with an Utterly Insane fic. 
> 
> I did a bunch of research on raccoons and then chucked it all out the window for Plot Reasons, rip. This is all taking place when Tommy n Tubbo are probs like.....6-9 in age. They're Smol, your honor. 
> 
> Anyway, that's all the notes I can think of atm, there isn't really any warnings, its a fluffy fic, enjoy!

He is different from the others. He knows this in a vague way. They are smaller than him, they have gray fur and soft tails and sharp teeth. He is pale and hairless and he has blunt teeth and no tail. 

It isn’t really all that important in the end, though. He is larger, and cleverer, and his paws make him excellent at picking fleas and ticks, and opening things. He helps the others where they are lacking, and they help him. They sleep in a pile on him in the cold times, they use their keen ears to listen for danger that he might miss. 

It is a good life. It is the only life he has known, the only life he cares to know. 

There is nothing that could convince him to leave it. 

Not even the new Very Interesting Thing that has appeared at the edge of the forest. The clan wanders through their patch through the year so sometimes things have changed when they come back to a certain area. 

But he would have noticed the Very Interesting Thing if it had been there last cold time because it is so very interesting. Its like a rock suddenly decided that it wanted to move as living things did and plopped itself down in the clearing. 

Only rocks don’t do that. 

To his knowledge. 

That is what makes it so interesting. It also smells of delicious things, which is always guaranteed to draw the attention of the clan. They watch it cautiously for hours, waiting to see if the Very Interesting Thing will move. 

It doesn’t get up, but it does open what must be its mouth and spit out some Very Terrifying Things. They are  _ huge _ , not quite as big as the Very Interesting But Possibly Dangerous Thing, but bigger than anyone in the clan, they walk on their hind legs and are draped in strange things. 

He isn’t sure if it is skin or if they have covered themselves in things to keep away the biting cold like he does. 

That is the most terrifying thing about them. 

They are like him. 

He chatters nervously, wringing his paws together. His fear makes the rest of the clan nervous as well and they all slip back into the trees. He doesn’t want to think about the Scary-Not-Interesting Thing and the Very Scaring Things that came from it. They will only be here for the cold times, then they will leave and maybe when they come back the Things will be gone. 

Only, the cold time is harsher than usual. The white biting cold hasn’t landed yet, but the air bites at him. It has frozen the pond where they might have hunted crayfish, it has killed the plants, it has even found its way under the rotted logs to kill the grubs that live under them. 

The clan shrinks as the cold times stretch long. The old ones usually fall in the cold times--he has lived through many cold times, the most out of anyone in the clan-- but now even the ones who are young and strong are falling still and quiet. 

They search through the forest, but the cold has eaten everything. Everything but the Dangerous Thing that lives at the outskirts of the forest and sends the scent of wonderful things through the forest. 

There is no choice but to go to it. 

He chitters nervously as they approach, with the cover of night to shelter them it is as safe as it can be but still. The Thing looms over them, like a mother protecting her kits, but it does not fall on them with snarls and teeth even as they come close enough to touch it. 

He stretches out a paw and dares to brush the side of the Dangerous Thing and it remains unmoved. He pushes harder, but it does not retaliate. 

He warbles victory. 

The wonderful smell is coming from a strange lump on the Maybe Not Dangerous Thing’s flank. As the biggest, bravest, and cleverest of the clan, he is the one to go to it first. He is the one to learn how to pull the lump open and get to the wondrous spoils within. 

The others gather around him, chattering their happiness and squabbling over the best of the scraps. One of them scrapes teeth against his paw and he whirls on them with a snarl. This is his food, he will not surrender it. 

The challenger screeches and flings herself backwards, chattering apology. He snorts and grumbles acceptance and allows her back to the food. The cold times have been too lean for them to ostracize any of their number. 

He needs them as much as they need him. 

There is a clatter/clank/screech from the Dangerous Thing and they freeze. Has it grown angry with them? Will it now rise up and defend itself? 

No, instead something much worse happens. One of the Terrifying Things comes forth. It glows, blindingly brilliant in the protective cover of night, like it is holding the sun itself in its hand. 

It stares at them. 

They stare back. 

It barks, a sharp warning that they heed immediately. They scramble as one from the food pile and bolt for the trees where they will be safe. The Terrifying Thing chases them, calling aggression and warning. He can hear its strange, two-beat gait behind him, he has always been the slowest of the clan. 

He whirls with a vicious snarl, baring his teeth and rising up partially on his hind legs to appear bigger. The Terrifying Thing is still bigger than him, but it still stumbles to a stop, the sun in its hand is blinding. He doesn’t wait for it to gather its wits, he turns and sprints after the rest of the clan. 

They climb into the trees, watching with wide eyes as the Terrifying Thing paces on the ground, looking for them. It calls again and again, trying to summon the rest of its clan? They stay high in the branches, surely it will get bored eventually. 

One of the younger ones chitters nervously but she is immediately scolded by her mother back into silence. The Terrifying Thing looks up and his breath catches in his throat, but it must not see well in the dark because it does not seem to spot them. Finally, it turns and goes back into what must be its nest. 

*** 

Its late, and Phil is going to go to bed in a minute but first he needs to take the last of the scraps out to the compost heap. It’d been a good day, but a hard one, and he’s more than ready to go to bed. 

He steps out into the cold night air and yawns. The moon is new tonight, its nearly pitch black out, even the stars are covered by clouds. He holds the lantern a bit higher, the last thing he wants to do is trip and get garbage all over himself. 

He rounds the corner and finds himself face to face with what must be twenty raccoons. Great, now they’ve found the compost bin and there’ll be no keeping the shits out of it. “Hey!” he barks, “get out of that! Go on!” The pack breaks and bolts for the trees. 

And that’s when Phil sees it. 

Or rather, that’s when Phil sees  _ him _ .

There’s a boy lagging behind the pack with a half rotted squash sticking out of his mouth. “Hey!” Phil shouts again, innanely he means to get the boy’s attention and ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing out in the middle of the night in winter. The nearest village is  _ miles _ away. 

Only the boy is wearing layers of moss and leaves, not clothing. He’s running in a strange half-crawl gait, he’s chattering nervously in the same tone as the raccoons. When Phil has nearly caught up to him, he whips around and rises up. His teeth flash in the light of the lantern, bared to the sound of a terrible inhuman growl. Phil skids to a stop, staring. The boy is covered in dirt and scars, his hair is long and matted, like its never been cut or brushed in his life. 

Phil gets an inkling that this might not be some lost village kid. Or if he is, he’s been lost for a  _ very long time _ . 

He barely has time to process that thought, the boy scrambles back down onto all fours and sprints into the forest with the rest of the raccoon pack. 

Phil stares into the dark, still frozen in shock. Then he snaps himself out of it. Its midwinter and the kid is clearly in need of a lot of help. “Wait!” he calls, trying to make his voice gentler, “come back. I’m not going to hurt you!” He steps into the trees, there’s no sign of the boy or the raccoons. 

“I’m sorry I scared you!” he says, but there is no response. Gods, does the kid even  _ speak? _ When was the last time he saw another person? 

He looks for hours, but there is no way to track them in the dark. He’ll have to wait until morning, he’ll have to get the boys to help him. 

They’d moved out here for a bit of peace and quiet, but Phil finds himself doubting that they’ll get it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day another chapter! Let's all ignore Doomsday together with this extremely fluffy fic. We're gonna need it fam. Brace yourselves.

“So,” Techoblade says, slow and deliberate, his face shows clearly just how unbelievable he finds all of this, “you saw a boy last night, in the middle of the night, living with raccoons and eating our garbage?” 

“I  _ know _ how insane it sounds,” Phil says, “but I know what I saw. We need to help him, who knows how long he’s been out here?” 

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a really big raccoon?” 

Phil bites back a growl, “ _ yes _ , Techno, I’m pretty sure I know a raccoon when I see one.” 

“Okay,” Wilbur interrupts, “let’s say that raccoon-boy is real. What is it you want us to do? We can’t go searching the woods for specific bunch of raccoons, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Phil but there are a lot of them out there.” 

“We can’t just  _ leave  _ him out there either.” 

“Going out and hunting him isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Techno says, “we have to let the raccoon-boy come to us. He’s already come once, you know how tenacious raccoons are. If they came to the garbage pit once, they’ll come again. We just have to set a trap.” 

The other two blink. “You can’t be serious--” Wilbur begins. 

“That’s a good idea,” Phil says, quickly warming to the idea. His wings twitch with anticipation. The kid thinks that he’s an animal, they have to catch him like one and then they can move on to convincing him that he isn’t. 

“Those raccoons aren’t gonna know what fucking hit them,” Wilbur mutters. 

*** 

They avoid the Terrifying Things and their nest for as long as they can, but the cold times keep getting colder and food keeps getting scarcer. They have to go back to the nest before they lose more of their number. 

They are more cautious this time. They wait until the nest has fallen completely still and silent before they make their move. They creep up to it in silence and he steps forward to open the food cache. 

There is a clatter as soon as he does, something tumbling to the ground and they all freeze. The more skittish of their number take a few steps back towards the woods, but they are all starving, they cannot afford to leave behind this bounty. 

He reaches into the food cache and looks up at the nest. It is still and quiet. 

As he sinks his teeth into the first bit of food, the others find their courage--or are overcome by their stomachs--and join him. They eat silently, there is no squabbling this time, no sounds that might give them away. 

A click. He freezes, the others rise onto their hind legs, ears swiveling. 

None of the Terrifying Things come around the corner snarling warning. They return to the food cache. He stuffs his mouth with greens, they’re tough to chew but they are food all the same. 

Someone chatters, squabbling over a bit of food. The longer they are allowed to go on uninterrupted, the more confident they become. He hisses at them, reminding them that they are still in danger. 

They calm down, turning back to their own food. There is enough here for them, they do not need to fight and attract attention. He swallows the greens and reaches for the next bite and everything goes terribly wrong. 

The sun rises in the blink of an eye, it is blinding him, blinding them. The others chatter and shriek and his voice joins their’s. Only there are more voices on the air, the harsh barks of the Terrifying Things. 

He abandons the food cache and bolts, making for the trees. He can hear the others passing him by, chittering their distress, snarling at their pursuers. Heavy, two-beat footsteps are behind him, more than one set. The Terrifying Things are after him. He is the largest, the slowest, a liability. 

He turns sharply, trying to throw them off his tail, there is the sound of a massive body hitting the dirt behind him. He chitters a laugh at them and redoubles his speed. The other Terrifying Thing is shouting, still chasing him, but its falling behind. The trees are getting closer, he just needs to get to them and the Terrifying Things will have to give up. He can stay in a tree until they give in. 

He gathers his muscles, ready to leap to the lowest branches of the nearest one. From the darkness, something round and gleaming appears from over his shoulder. As if it were chasing him. He has a split second to be confused and then suddenly the shiny round thing is one of the Terrifying Things. 

It is  _ massive _ , and it is  _ fast. _

He tries to slip by it but it pounces on him. Its weight presses him to the dirt, it grabs him with clever paws and barks for its packmates to catch up.  _ No!  _ He isn’t going to die. He  _ won’t _ . 

He screeches and thrashes, throwing himself against the Terrifying Thing. His claws scrabble at the dirt, at skin, at the coverings that the Terrifying Thing has wrapped around itself. He twists his head and digs his teeth into warm flesh. Blood floods his mouth and the Terrifying Thing yelps in pain.

But it doesn’t let go. 

It pins his head with one paw as the other members of the pack arrive. They are all chattering to each other, no doubt excited over their kill. Tommy screeches again, hoping against hope that one of the others will come for him.

They don’t, because that’s not how the clan works. They do not come back for each other, they carry on as the others fall around them. They live together, but they do not die together. Those who can, will get away. 

But he can’t. He is trapped here, with the largest Terrifying Thing looming over him, keeping him pinned as the others finally catch up. His eyes burn, he doesn’t know why they do this sometimes, but they do. It makes it hard to see, but he doesn’t really want to see his end coming anyway. 

Now, after all these cold times he will be the one to fall still, never to move again. He doesn’t want to. He chirrs like a kit calling for its mother, but of course he has no mother. He has simply always been, no one to care for him, no one to defend him as the terrible stillness closes in. 

More paws land on him, he snarls half heartedly, it won’t dissuade them. He is outnumbered and they are far stronger than him. He braces for the pain, for them to tear him apart. 

The large one moves, and suddenly he isn’t pinned to the ground by its body anymore. He scrabbles, trying to get to his feet but it still has him by the head with one oversized paw. 

He hisses, chattering rage and defiance, it has made a mistake and now he will escape. Now he will live! 

His claws scratch, but another paw wraps around them. He shrieks but the Terrifying Things don’t let go. He can’t get up, can’t get away. They are chattering to each other, like they’re newborns who don’t know what to do with a kill. Maybe they are? 

It might be why they stay in the nest all day instead of going out to hunt or forage. But newborns or not, they have caught him now, unless they make a very big mistake, he is dead. 

*** 

“So,” Techno says, breathing hard, he glances away from the boy to Wilbur, “that ‘foolproof’ trap you made.” 

“It  _ was _ foolproof,” Wilbur snaps, “maybe they fucked it up somehow, that’s not my fault.” 

Techno snorts, “right. Well, one way or another, we’ve got him. Now what?” 

Phil looks down at the boy, pinned easily under Techno’s hand. He is so small, too small, too thin, too scared. There are tears leaving tracks in the dirt down his cheeks. He’s making a strange little chirpy chitter that sounds like some sort of distress call. None of the raccoons are coming back for him though. 

Phil imagines that this is all extremely terrifying for the poor kid, but he’ll figure out they don’t mean him any harm soon enough. “Hey mate,” he says to the boy, crouching down in his line of sight. He keeps his voice soft and gentle, soothing. “You’re alright, I know you’re scared, I wish we could have done this a bit gentler but its dangerous out there.” 

“Phil--” Techno begins, but Phil ignores him. 

“We’re just gonna bring you inside now, okay?” 

“I don’t think he understands us Phil,” Wilbur says a bit sadly. The boy is still making the distress call, mixed in with a spitting and growling by turns. 

“About getting him inside,” Techno says, “ _ how _ exactly do you propose we do that? The minute I let him up he’s gonna bolt.” 

Phil frowns. If Wilbur’s trap had worked, the net would have kept the boy contained until they could get him inside. Now they’ll have to improvise. He pulls the cloak off of his shoulder, ruffling his feathers as the cold air hits them. “Here,” he says, “we’ll wrap him in this. That should hold until we get him inside.” 

Techno glances at the cloak, “alright, get it around him. Will, stand over there,” he nods his head to the woods, “we have to make sure he doesn’t make it to the woods. I don’t fancy chasing him in the dark and I bet he’s not going to come back if we lose him now.” 

Wilbur paces carefully to stand in front of the boy, watching him intently. He isn’t as well-versed in combat as Techno and Phil, but he can hold his own against a half starved boy. 

Phil steps forward, the boy hisses and spits at him, but Phil can see the fear in his eyes. He hates making the kid so scared. “I’m just gonna put this around you, mate,” he says in the soft gentle tone he used when one of the boys had a nightmare when they were young. “Its nice and warm, you’ll like it.” he won’t, and he doesn’t. 

The boy  _ screams _ when the cloak drapes around him, as though Phil’s taken a knife to him instead of a piece of cloth. He struggles against Techno’s hands but there is no chance of him getting away unless Techno lets him up. 

Its a struggle to get the cloak wrapped around him without letting him go. Especially because the boy is determined to be as unhelpful as possible. When Techno lets go of his head to help get the cloak around his shoulders he lunges for them. Phil takes a bite to the wrist because he won’t risk flinching away and having the kid slip out of their grasp. 

“He better not have fucking rabies,” Techno grumbles, pinning the kid’s head down again. He gets an enraged scream for his troubles. Finally, they have the boy as restrained as they can. Techno looks from Phil to Wilbur and receives nods from them both. They’re ready. 

Carefully, Techno stands. The boy thrashes, just like they knew he would, trying to wiggle out of Techno’s grip. Phil hovers close, Will tenses, ready to lunge for the boy. 

Techno releases him for a split second to readjust his grip and then he has the boy firmly again. He hoists him up into his arms, keeping the kid’s head away from his face. 

The boy screams again, like he’s being murdered instead of carried--which, in his mind Phil is sure that he is--but he is too snugly wrapped in the cloak to get his limbs free. 

“Right.” Techno grunts, “this is going to be  _ fun _ .” 

“Aw,” Will says, trying for a lighthearted tone but Phil can tell that he feels for the boy too, “you know things were getting too quiet around here.” 

“I was enjoying the quiet.” Techno mutters, but his hands are as gentle as they can be on the boy without letting him go. His steps are steady and smooth so the boy isn’t jostled. 

Phil allows himself one small smile, he’s got good boys. 

They get the kid into the house and he falls silent. Stunned, or simply too afraid to make any more noise. Phil locks the door behind them and loops the key on a string around his neck. There is no doubt in his mind that there will be escape attempts, many of them, but they are not letting this kid go back out there to die of starvation in the woods. 

As much as Phil wants to get him cleaned up and fed right away, he restrains himself. The boy has just gone through one hell of a night, what he needs for now is quiet and calm. Time to figure himself out and adjust to his new, probably terrifying reality. 

The spare room is as secure as they can make it. The shutters are pulled closed on all of the windows so the boy won’t see the outdoors and try to break through them. The door has a new lock on it so that he can’t get out to the rest of the house. 

Phil spent most of the day clearing out anything too breakable in the room, the only things in it at this point are a bed and a sizable pile of blankets. More blankets than he’d left here. He hides a smile as he recognizes a few from both Will and Techno’s rooms. There is a bee plush hidden behind the pile that could only have come from Tubbo. 

“Alright, how are we gonna do this?” Techno asks. “I think the kid’s playing dead now but he’s gonna pop up real quick once I let him go. I do  _ not _ want to chase his ass around the house at one AM.” 

“Will and I will wait out here, I think your best bet is going to be dumping him on the bed and booking it to be honest.” 

“Great.” Techno mutters, “I love plans that are just ‘run and hope.’” 

For all his complaining, the plan actually goes pretty well. Phil and Wilbur stand at the end of the hall, ready to catch the kid if he does manage to slip past Techno. It doesn’t turn out to be necessary though, Techno ducks through the door and shuts it firmly behind himself without even a peep from the kid. Still playing dead, then, or in too much shock. 

Phil’s feathers ruffle, he wants to go in there and offer the kid some nice tea, or a cookie maybe. But that won’t reassure the kid at all, it’ll just make him more scared. They’ve done enough for tonight. 

“Is he in there?” Tubbo asks from behind them, his voice still rough with sleep. He’d wanted to stay awake with them but they had sent him to bed. Phil isn’t surprised that he was woken by the commotion though. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, kneeling in front of Tubbo. “He’s in there, he’s really scared though, so you have to never go in there without me or one of your brothers, alright?” 

Tubbo nods, his little face serious. Phil’s mind pictures him skeletal thin and covered in scars, dressed only in leaves and scraps of moss, alone in the woods in the dead of winter. Phil shoves the image away fiercely, that will never happen to Tubbo, it should never have happened to this boy. They’re going to fix it though, they’re going to help him. Even if he doesn’t realize it. 

It isn’t a quiet night. The boy is quiet for  _ maybe _ ten minutes before they hear the first sounds from the room. First its just footsteps, then a clatter, escalating to a crash. Phil and his older boys sit in the livingroom, listening to the increasingly distressed chattering coming from the spare room. 

Tubbo goes back to his own bed but Phil doubts that he’ll be getting much sleep. 

Nobody will in this house. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomsday came and Wrecked Me   
> Have an extra chapter on me fam. its a bit angsty but we're getting towards the pure fluff.

They have taken him into their nest. Trapped him in some strange sleeping chamber with soft bedding. He doesn’t understand. He can’t begin to comprehend their motivations. Why did they not just kill him if they were going to store him? Nothing keeps its prey alive. If you leave it alive it escapes. 

Not that escaping is going particularly well. The nest walls are too strong for his claws to dig through, and his paws can’t make the strange wall that opens let him through. Even though the Terrifying Things were able to. 

He paces the chamber, trying to find some hidden entrance. He shoves the piles of soft not-moss around, as if it were hiding something, but there is just more strange things underneath it. 

Eventually, he has no choice but to give up. He drags the not-moss into a small back corner of the chamber and curls himself into it. Maybe he can disguise his scent enough that they’ll think he’s gone. 

Its very warm inside the nest, warmer than any tree hollow, no matter how many of the others pack in. Wrapped in the not-moss, with his belly full and exhausted from the fight against the Terrifying Things, he falls asleep. 

*** 

“He was eating out of the garbage,” Techno says flatly, “you think he knows how to use a spoon?” 

Wilbur scowls at him, “Well we can’t just give him a whole plate full of food. He’s malnourished as fuck, he has to start with broth and shit and work his way up or he’ll get sick.” 

“I say again: Eating out of the garbage.” 

Wilbur shoots Phil a look, ignorant to Techno doing the same over his head. Phil closes his eyes so they don’t see him roll them. “You’re both right,” he says, “we do need to start with stuff that’ll be gentle on his stomach, but I don’t think he’s going to know what to do with a spoon. How about small bowl of broth and a bit of bread?” 

Wilbur and Techno grumble their way to an agreement and put together the meal. “Who’s taking it in to him?” 

“Not me,” Techno says immediately, “the little shit’s already bit me once, I’m not putting up with that a second time.” 

Phil wouldn’t have suggested Techno anyway, the kid probably wouldn’t be comforted to see the massive man who’d held him down last night. Phil is also pretty sure Techno is aware of that and that fact might have more to do with his reluctance to go see the kid than any grudge held over a little bite. 

“I’ll take it to him,” Phil says regardless. This is his house, the kid is his project, for lack of a better word. He needs to work on establishing trust early, and the best way to do that with any wild animal is with food. Even if that wild animal is a very lost little boy. 

“We’ll be in the hall,” Wilbur says, holding out the bowl and roll. The broth is only lukewarm, probably a good call. Phil imagines that at least half of it--if not more--will end up on the boy or the floor. 

Phil walks slowly and carefully to the door of the spare room. He can hear the boy chittering to himself, but it falls abruptly silent when he catches Phil’s footsteps. Phil holds the bowl in one hand, roll pinned between his fingers and the rim and uses his free hand to knock gently on the door. 

“Hey mate,” he says, it’ll be good to give the kid warning that he’s coming in instead of just bursting in. “I’ve brought you some food, its broth, Wilbur made it.” 

The room on the other side of the door is deathly quiet, if Phil hadn’t already heard the kid up and about he might be worried. 

“I’m coming in now,” he says and opens the door a crack with his free hand. He keeps his body filling the door frame as he slips in, but the kid doesn’t rush him. 

The room is, frankly, a mess. Exactly what you’d expect of a room if it had a real raccoon locked in it all night. Phil looks around casually as he speaks, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day you know.” Finally he spots the boy, in the back corner of the room, hidden behind the mattress. 

He pretends that he hasn’t. “Wilbur’s a pretty good cook, you want to come try it?” 

He sets the bowl gently on the floor halfway between the bed and the door. The boy doesn’t move, he just stares at Phil like he’s waiting for him to attack. He probably is. 

Phil  _ should _ turn around and leave, but he can’t quite bear to do it. He kneels on the floor to make himself less imposing and finally looks at the boy. “Hey,” he says softly, “you look comfy back there.” The majority of the blankets have been pulled into a little nest around the boy, as if he were trying to hide in them. 

“Are you hungry?” He tears off a bit of the roll, “its food, see?” he dips the bread into the broth and eats it, “mmm.” 

The boy doesn’t even blink, he sits stock still staring at Phli with wide eyes. It tears at Phil’s heart to see any kid this scared of anyone, much less him. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, “I’ll leave you be then.” 

He stands slowly and backs out of the door, shutting it softly behind him. 

“Well?” Techno asks, leaning against the wall. 

“He’s still scared stiff,” Phil says, “wouldn’t move an inch when I came in there.” 

Techno nods, Wilbur’s brow is furrowed, his concern plain on his face. Techno’s is harder to read, but Phil has known him long enough to be able to read him. 

“Its only the first day,” Techno says, “he’ll warm up to us.” 

“We hope,” Will mutters. 

“He  _ will _ .” 

Phil isn’t sure how exactly Techno plans to enforce that, but he’s sure he’ll find a way. 

“Come on, he’s not going to calm down any with all of us sitting outside of his door,” Phil says. “We’ve got things to do anyway.” 

With winter still upon them most of the things they have to do are indoors anyway so its easy to keep a weather eye on the boy. They hear him shuffling around from downstairs, muffled chattering drifts down through the floorboards every so often as well. 

Tubbo wakes up around noon--not surprising considering how late he’d been up, and he’s never been an early riser even on good days--and shuffles down the stairs. “Morning.” he mutters, grabbing a bit of fruit from the bowl. “Is he still scared?” 

“Yeah,” Phil says, “he’s probably gonna be scared for awhile buddy. You would be scared too if someone took you away from us, right?” 

Tubbo nods, “but if he was happy why did we take him away from his raccoon family?” 

Oh boy. 

Phil folds his hands together, “well, he’s not a raccoon, Tubbs, they can’t take care of him as well as we can.” 

Tubbo frowns, “but you said family was about who cared about you most. That’s why you’re my dad even though you aren’t my bo--bi--um..” 

“Your biological father,” Techno says, not looking up from his research. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well...” Phil says, Techno doesn’t seem inclined to help him out of his own verbal stumble, “well. Thing is mate, I still take good care of you, right? I love you very much and I make sure you get enough to eat, and you have a warm place to sleep, and plenty of toys to play with.” 

Tubbo nods, his brow furrowed but he seems to be following the logic so far. 

“The raccoons couldn’t take care of him very well. They’re very small, they don’t have farms to get him food, and they don’t have blankets to keep him warm, and he doesn’t have any toys at all.” 

“He does now,” Tubbo says, cheering for a moment, “I gave him my bee!” 

“I saw that,” Phil says, his heart set to melt in his chest at the proud smile Tubbo aims at him. “That was very kind of you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the company.” 

“Yeah.” Tubbo says, “and now I’m taking good care of him too. Better than the raccoons.” 

“Exactly,” Phil says, trying not to sound too relieved. “The raccoons will be happy that the boy has us to take care of him now. And he’ll be happy too, he just misses his family right now and he’s not met many other people.” 

Tubbo nods gravely, “I was scared when we went to the city and there were a bunch of people I didn’t know. Even though they were really nice.” 

Phil ruffles his hair, “that’s exactly what he’s going through right now. Its just gonna take him a bit to get used to us and see how nice we are.” 

“I’m gonna be the nicest,” Tubbo declares. 

“I’m sure you will be.” 

*** 

The Terrifying Things are confusing and very strange. He has no idea how long he’s been kept in their nest. The thin slivers of sunlight have crossed the floor and given way to moonlight many times. Every time the sun comes up, the Terrifying Thing with the massive wings-like some terrible bird--comes with food and chatters at him. It leaves the food, like he is a kit that cannot go out and hunt for itself.

He’s never eaten so much so regularly, especially in the cold time, but he’s never not hungry. It isn’t water. Whatever it is tastes like food, like the most delicious food he’s ever tasted. He drinks all of it, even licks the bottom of the puddle clean. The other bit of food he smuggles back into his nest, hiding it in the not-moss to eat later. 

He’s full and warm and the Terrifying Things have been leaving him alone. If he weren’t trapped in their nest, he might even like it here. Aside from his looming death, his only real problem is that he’s terribly, incredibly,  _ bored. _

If he were with the clan they would be searching for food, or playing, or grooming each other,  _ something _ . Here he is trapped in this one place, alone, with nothing to hunt, nothing to play with. 

He wanders around the space, hoping that maybe a few mice have snuck into the den. There is no evidence of them though, no holes, no droppings, no squeaks or rustling. 

All he can hear is the Terrible Things below him. They chatter to each other with their strange calls, calm and quiet. Why should they not be? They have food to last them the cold times and a warm nest to keep it in. 

He doesn’t want to think about how he is part of their food, hidden away in their nest. Just waiting for them to be hungry enough to come for him. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirls to face it, spitting an angry threat, he arches his back, bears his teeth. There are strange pink little worms at the entrance to the chamber. 

He just ate, but he’s never not hungry. 

He creeps towards them, they move very oddly for worms. All together, like they’re tied to one another. He snatches at one of them, stuffing his hand into his mouth, but it is empty. 

All of the worms have vanished, they aren’t on the floor, they’re just gone. He grumbles frustration. 

Then something answers him. 

It isn’t the familiar chatter of the clan, it is the strange sounds of the Terrifying Things. 

He makes a warning sound in the back of his throat,  _ t-t-t-t.  _

_ T-t-t,  _ says the Terrifying Thing. The worms reappear. Only they’re not worms, he realizes, they’re a paw. One of the Terrifying Things is there, sticking its paw in. But there’s no way that it could catch him this way, why would it not simply come in, as the one had earlier. 

The Terrifying Thing calls softly and wiggles its paw. 

He smacks at it with his own, making the warning sound again, trying to get it to back off. The paw disappears. Then comes back, waving at him again. 

What  _ is _ this? 

The Terrifying Thing chatters at him and he hisses. 

It hisses right back at him and he darts away, afraid that it will charge in. He chatters a habitual apology, and again, the Terrifying Thing apologizes right back. its..Interesting. 

He chatters a cautious greeting, the Terrifying Thing mimics him, its not good at making the sounds, but its recognizable. The paw appears again and he hesitantly comes forward and touches it. 

The paw disappears, comes back. He touches it again. It becomes a game, chattering to each other and chasing the Terrifying-but-maybe-friendly Thing’s paw. Its better than sitting alone waiting for something to happen. 

Unfortunately, something does happen. 

The two-beat gait of another Terrifying Thing comes towards them. He chitters distress and retreats to his corner as it draws nearer. It stops outside of the barrier and he can hear it chattering to the Friendly Thing. He waits for the Friendly Thing to be scolded or driven off, but there is no anger in the calls. 

These Things never make any sense. He doesn’t understand them. 

The Terrifying Thing comes into the room, beyond its legs, he can see another, it must be the Friendly Thing. It is small, maybe just a little bigger than him, even. Is it a kit? 

Does he look like a kit to them? Is that why they haven’t hurt him? 

He looks to the Terrifying Thing and it crouches down and croons at him in the low, soft tone that it has been using. Is that a mother-call? He chirps back to it cautiously, wondering if it will mimic him like the kit had. 

It doesn’t, but it does chatter at him something that he very hesitantly identifies as approving. It places another puddle on the floor, and another chunk of the strange food that it had dipped into the puddle and then stands and leaves. 

He does not understand. 

But he is never not hungry, so he eats. 

*** 

The boy has been here for about a week and he’s not really warmed up to them. He still huddles in his little blanket nest when Phil comes in. He eats, at least, and they can hear him moving and chattering to himself when he thinks he’s alone. They haven’t wanted to push him too far though. 

He’s expecting another day of being stared at as if he were a monster when he brings the boy his lunch. 

He isn’t expecting to see Tubbo laying on the floor in front of the spare room when he comes up to give the boy lunch. Much less see him lying there laughing as thumps and chitters come from the other side of the door. 

For the first time, the sounds don’t seem scared or angry, its almost playful, but they come to an abrupt halt as soon as he gets close enough for the boys to hear him. Tubbo turns around with a smile, not noticing the frantic scramble behind the door that gets more distant as the boy retreats, presumably back to his corner. 

“Phil!” Tubbo says, happily, “me ‘n’ Tommy are playing!” 

“You and who, mate?” 

“Tommy!” Tubbo declares, “that’s his name now.” 

Well, they were going to have to give him one eventually. “Why’d you go with that one bud?” 

Tubbo shrugs, “Its like my name, and he was saying ‘T’ when I asked him. He seemed to like Tommy, so that’s his name now.” 

“You better go let the others know then,” Phli says, Tubbo sits up, beaming. “Tubbo,” he calls, “you still remember not to go in there without one of us, right?” 

“Yeah,” Tubbo sounds disappointed, but not mullish, he’ll listen for now. “That’s why I was sitting by the door.” 

Phil nods, “alright, but remember that Tommy is still pretty scared, be gentle with him and remember to leave if he seems too upset.” 

“I will.” 

Phil ruffles Tubbo’s hair, “alright, good on you, mate. I’m gonna bring him his lunch now, you run along and tell the others his name.” 

He opens the door and true to his prediction the boy--Tommy--is curled up in the corner, watching him with wary eyes. “Hi again,” Phil says, kneeling down to place the bowl on the floor, “I brought you some lunch.” 

Tommy is watching him attentively, tracking Phil’s hands and face, but there is a crease in his brow, just a hint of something other than fear. His throat works a couple times, like he’s gathering himself, and then he chirps. 

Phil smiles, “hello to you too, mate. That mean you’re starting to calm down a bit?” 

Tommy cocks his head, a motion more birdlike than raccoon. He looks uncertain, more than afraid, it makes him look even younger, he can’t be older than Tubbo. “You don’t need to be afraid of us, Tommy,” Phil promises. “We’re not gonna hurt you, we’re gonna take care of you.” 

He leaves then to give Tommy a chance to eat, but his mind is spinning with possibilities. He doesn’t want to push too far too fast, but surely it wouldn’t hurt if he stuck around a little bit after dinner. Just for a few minutes. 

He goes back and forth on the decision for the rest of the day. Tommy has already made amazing progress in a single day, considering where he’s coming from. But letting him sit alone and scared in that room for any longer is tearing at Phil’s heart. 

By the time he’s ladling another bowl of broth for the kid, he’s come to the tentative decision to bring Tommy the meal and see what he does. If he seems skittish then Phli will leave, but if he’s calmer than Phil will stay for a bit. Not more than five minutes. He doesn’t want to overwhelm the kid. 

Tommy is curled in his corner again when Phil comes in, but there is less tension in his body language. He churrs at Phil as he sets the bowl down, head tilting again. Phil smiles at him, “hey, dinner time.” He backs away and sits so that he’s not directly facing the bowl or Tommy, “I thought I might stick around a bit this time, if that’s alright?” 

He watches Tommy out of the corner of his eye. His hands are open and relaxed on his knees, palm up, his shoulders hunched, wings down. As harmless as he can make himself. 

Tommy chatters nervously in the back of his throat, but he comes forward a bit, watching Phil with cautious eyes. Phil keeps his body language relaxed, he studies the floor in front of himself. He’s tempted to talk, to fill the silence, but he makes himself keep quiet. 

Tommy chitters at him, tilting his head in the other direction. Phil glances at him for just a second, flicking his eyes to the boy and then away. Tommy tenses, but he doesn’t draw back. He chitters again. 

Phil looks to him, “yeah, Tommy?” he looks away as soon as Tommy looks nervous, but he thinks that this is something like communication. He really hopes it is. 

He counts out the minutes carefully, responding every time Tommy chitters at him and keeping as calm and steady as he can manage. Its exciting, though, to be making this kind of progress. He can’t keep the smile off his face, though he does make sure not to show any teeth. 

When the five minutes are up, Tommy does seem pretty relaxed with him there, but he still hasn’t eaten so Phil carefully goes through the process of getting back out of the room. “I’m gonna go now, Tommy,” he says, motioning to the door, “thanks for letting me hang out with you.” 

He gets up slowly and Tommy pulls back to his corner, wary, but not terrified. Phil gives him another simile and leaves him to his dinner. They can do this, they can help this kid. 


	4. Chapter 4

Wilbur figured their family was pretty well rounded out after Tubbo. He, Techno, Phil, and Tubbo made a strong unit, they meshed well together. He’d have never thought they’d get another brother. 

But then again, even if he _had_ expected to get another brother some day, he probably wouldn’t have guessed that they’d find him eating out of the garbage. Still, family is family, no matter how weird they are, and Tommy is definitely part of their family now. Whether he wants to be or not. 

For the first few days, Wilbur keeps to himself, gives the kid space. He’s already got Phil hovering over him and that’s enough to overwhelm anyone. Techno seems to be in the same boat, he’s mostly been making his way through a towering stack of increasingly obscure books. 

But that’s not an option today because Phil had to go to the village. They needed the supplies and Phil had a few commissions for the townsfolk that needed to be delivered in person. So he took Tubbo and off they went, leaving Will and Techno in charge of the newest addition. 

Will almost wishes he were a baby, he’s pretty sure babies are less stressful than feral raccoon children. It has to hurt less when they bite at the _very least_. He saw how deep those tooth marks went on Techno and Phil, he’s not interested in getting his own set. 

“So,” he says, poking at the stove. Tommy is still just getting broth but Wilbur is having eggs. “How do we want to do this?” 

“He needs enrichment,” Techno says.

“What?” Will asks, because its too early for Techno to be using words he’s never heard before. 

“He’s been living out on his own, doing his own thing. Now he’s stuck in one room, he’s probably bored out of his mind.” 

That...makes sense, now that Will thinks of it. Its not like the kid--Tommy--has anyone to talk to, he definitely can’t _read_ anything to keep himself entertained. They’d stripped everything out of the room but blankets and a mattress, there’s probably not even a dust bunny to fidget with. 

“Think Phil’s still go those old toys up in the attic? He might like those.” 

Techno gives him a _look_ , “does Phil still have the toys,” he mocks. 

“Right. Watch breakfast for me, yeah?” He leaves the stove and heads up the stairs. The attic is dusty and dark, and stuffed absolutely _full_ of old chests. Things that haven’t been opened since he and Techno were little.

Will digs through them one by one, baby clothes, pictures, finally, he comes to the one with the toys. Its a rush of nostalgia and he can’t help but smile as he pets the nose of a wooden horse. Phil had carved it for him for his ninth birthday, around Tubbo’s age, and possibly Tommy’s. 

He sets it aside, its a bit too precious to hand to a kid they found eating their garbage, and he’d probably not have as much fun with it as some of the other stuff. At the bottom, he finds what he’s looking for. 

Techno was always the one more into puzzles, and he’d taken good care of them in general. Will pulls out a few of the sturdier, simpler ones. If Tommy gets bored of these they can get him the more complex ones. 

He piles them into his arms and carries them back down to the kitchen. “You good with him using these?” 

“I’d have stopped you if I wasn’t,” Techno mutters, looking away. Wilbur hides a grin. He knows how touchy Tech is with his stuff, he _hates_ sharing, even with them. Not unless its really important. 

Apparently ‘enrichment’ is important. 

Techno glares at him but Wilbur doesn’t say anything. He’ll let his brother pretend, that’s what brothers do. 

Will eats his breakfast quickly, he can hear Tommy moving around upstairs. And he’s _pretty sure_ that he kid can’t get out of the room but he doesn’t want to take any bets about what he’ll try if he gets too hungry. 

He gets a bowl of broth--they’re out of rolls, unfortunately, but Phil will be back with flour to make more--and glances at Techno. Tech very obviously pretends that he doesn’t see. 

Fine, Wilbur will go then. Probably for the best anyway, Techno is intimidating at the best of times and Tommy is not having the best of times at the moment. 

He scoops the puzzle toys under one arm and balances the bowl of broth in the other. “I’m going to go feed him, if I start screaming come rescue me.” 

“If you can’t fight off one starving naked kid you deserve to die.” 

Wilbur juggles his burdens to where he can flip Techno the bird and then heads off on his grand quest. 

There is a hand waving at the bottom of the door when he gets there. He remembers Phil telling them about how he found Tubbo and the kid playing yesterday and wonders if Tommy’s looking for his new friend. 

Tommy pulls his hand away as Will gets closer though, and Will can hear him scrambling back to the far corner of the room. Still scared. Its only been a week, and he made a massive leap yesterday playing with Tubbo. It shouldn’t be discouraging to be the object of such terror. 

But when Will opens the door, his heart clenches. Tommy is wrapped in blankets, huddled against the wall like a kid who just woke up from a nightmare. “Hi,” Will says, even though he knows the kid can’t understand him. “Breakfast time, Phil and Tubbo are out for the day. They’ll probably be back for lunch though.” 

Tommy makes a low warbly sort of sound, watching Will kneel down to place the bowl on the floor. He’s still filthy, covered in dirt and who knows what else, his leaf and moss covering has pretty well disintegrated at this point and his only covering is the blankets. Will can count his ribs from across the room. 

He can’t count the scars that dot Tommy’s skin though, there are too many. Most of them are small, things that would heal without a mark with access to treatment and good food. But Tommy hasn’t had either of those things. 

“I brought you this too,” he says, holding out one of the puzzles, its a simple one, with wooden pegs that have to be fit into specific shape-holes on the lid of the box. He sets it on the ground beside the bowl, and tips the blocks out. “See?” he shoves the round peg into its hole, “you just put all the shapes in.” 

Tommy doesn’t move, Will isn’t sure that he’s blinked. He’s just sitting there, staring. Waiting. 

“Right,” Will mutters, “I’ll leave you be then. Enjoy.” 

He stands carefully and leaves. He lingers by the door for a moment, and very faintly, he can hear Tommy creep across the room, and the rattle-thunk of one of the shapes being put into its hole. 

He smiles to himself and returns downstairs. Maybe the kid will adjust. 

He’s looking forward to getting to know his new brother. 

***

A different Terrifying-but-maybe-not Thing had brought food this time. He doesn’t really recognize this one. Its voice is familiar, and there had been three of them on the night they had hunted him, and the Friendly One hadn’t been there so it must have been this one. 

It is smaller than the others, not as small as Friendly One, not a kit. Still larger than him. It puts the puddle thing on the floor and chatters at him, like the other one. The one who lingered last night. But this one puts something else on the floor as well. 

It doesn’t smell like food, but it looks like the food cache outside. The Possibly-Not-Terrifying Thing dumps something out of the food cache, but it isn’t food. It is small rocks, or something like rocks. He peers closely at them as the Thing picks up one of the not-rocks and puts it back into the cache. 

This one is even stranger than the others. 

Strange One leaves him alone and he cannot help but approach the cache. He sniffs the not-stones, but they only smell like wood, he gnaws at a corner, but they only taste of wood too. Perhaps that is what they are, but he has never seen wood shaped like this before. 

Experimentally, he tries to put the wood into the cache, but it doesn’t fit through the hole that Strange One had used. He tries the other holes and finally it fits into one and falls to the bottom of the cache with a clatter. He tilts his head. 

The wood bits are in the same sort of shapes as the holes on the top of the cache, he realizes. A curious chatter rises out of the back of his throat and he tries fitting another into the cache. It is easier this time and it falls in with another clatter. 

Interesting. 

He hopes Strange One doesn’t come back for the cache, he likes it, he wants to keep it. Maybe if he hides it Strange One won’t be able to find it. He definitely couldn’t fight Strange One for it, but if he hides it then Strange One won’t be able to do anything about it. He chitters, happy with his solution and puts the rest of the wood bits into the cache. He hides it in his nest and pulls the bedding over it, examining it from every angle to make sure that there is no sign of it. 

Perfect. 

He turns to the food-water, because he is never not hungry and gulps it down. The not-puddle is added to his store, when he gets out of here, they will be very useful he is sure. 

Only now there is nothing to do and he is bored again. 

There are no kits to play with, not unless Friendly One comes. He chatters, hoping that Friendly One will hear him. There are no light two-beat footsteps. He calls louder, maybe Friendly One is simply further away. 

Still nothing. 

He paces, chattering to each of the walls in case Friendly One is hiding behind one of them, but there is no paw, no answering chitter. He calls as loudly as he can, but Friendly One still doesn’t come. 

Its frustrating. He is _bored_. The wood-cache is only so entertaining, he digs it out of his nest and dumps the wood bits out and puts them back in. Again and again. It grows less entertaining every time. 

He calls for Friendly One again, but there is _still_ no answer. 

Finally, there are two-beat footsteps, but they are too heavy to be Friendly One. It is Strange One, or the Bird One. he doesn’t think that its Terrifying One, he hopes it isn’t. He hides the wood cache and tucks himself into his nest beside it. 

The footsteps stop outside of the wall though, the entrance doesn’t appear. He churrs cautiously, and Strange One chatters back at him. 

Oh. Well, its better than Bird One or Terrifying One, but Strange One isn’t _Friendly One_ and he wants to play with Friendly One. He grumbles to himself, too low for Strange One to hear and fiddles with the wood cache. It is even less entertaining now. 

Then Strange One becomes even more strange. It makes very strange sounds, like its howling. The sounds go up and down again and again, like a pattern like a bird call. There are some birds that sound like others, maybe Strange One is like them. Friendly One had copied him, Strange One must be copying something else. 

Whatever it is, he hopes that he never meets it. It must scare prey away for miles. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments!! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story!

Phil is glad to see the house is still standing when they round the bend. He’d been half convinced that it would be burnt to a crisp by now. But its standing tall and quiet, no screaming, no naked boy making a break for the trees, no sons chasing or searching for him. 

They may even all be alive, that would be a miracle. 

“Can I show Tommy my new toy?” Tubbo asks. 

“Maybe after lunch,” Phil says, he isn’t sure how willing Tommy might be to see guests at the moment, he isn’t sure that he wants to bring Tubbo into the room itself. He’s so small, and Tommy is too, but he is scared, and scared people are dangerous 

He sends Tubbo in while he puts the wagon back in the barn and unitches the horses. He pours them some feed and pats their necks as he leaves. The inside of the house is intact too, things really must have been quiet. Will and Techno are sitting at the table, listening dutifully to Tubbo’s recounting of the day’s events. 

“The whole thing?” Will asks in appropriately impressed tones. 

Tubbo nods vigorously, “ _all_ of it.” 

“Wow,” Techno says, his chin propped up in his hand. He looks about ready to fall asleep there--Phil wonders just how late he stayed up last night. 

“How has Tommy been?” 

“Loud.” 

Will shoots Techno a scolding look, “he’s pretty bored, and I think he missed Tubbo. He kept putting his hand under the door.” 

Tubbo bounces on his toes, looking at Phil with wide, pleading eyes, “can I show him my new toy?” 

“Let’s get him some lunch first,” Phli says, as adorable as Tubbo’s puppy eyes are. 

“Okay,” Tubbo says disappointedly. He tugs at Techno’s sleeve and Techno pulls him up into his lap without looking up from his books. He absentmindedly pats Tubbo on the head and Tubbo leans into his chest, though he keeps pouting. 

Phil smothers a laugh and turns to get a bowl from Will. “We’re gonna have to get the others back from him at some point,” Will says, “we’re gonna run out at this rate.” 

Phil nods as he takes it and heads towards Tommy’s room. Tommy is chattering to himself, and doing something that clatters against wood. Maybe playing with the bowls? 

It quiets down as he approaches the door, Tommy definitely already knows he’s there, but he still knocks. “Hey mate, we’re back.” He cracks open the door, Tommy is in his corner once again, but there’s a square-ish lump in the blankets behind him. Interesting. One of the boys must have brought him something. 

“I brought you some lunch,” Phil says, setting the bowl down. “I am gonna be taking that bowl back with me though, so you’ve got to eat it now.” He’s not sure this is the best idea, in all honesty, but it has to be better than going over to Tommy’s corner and digging through his nest. 

Tommy chatters at him, glancing from the bowl to Phil. Phil steps away, settling back in his own corner, his pose carefully relaxed. Tommy watches him, chattering lowly to himself. It reminds him of Techno, muttering under his breath about a problem he can’t quite solve. 

Phil closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall. He hopes that having his throat exposed will put Tommy more at ease. If the boy goes for him he can take it, but it might put him at ease and Phil is tired after spending a whole morning in the village.Haggling prices and wrangling Tubbo takes a lot out of a man. 

Tommy churrs a bit louder, and he cracks open on eye to glance at him, “hm?” 

Tommy only watches him silently so he closes his eye again. He can’t fall asleep here but he’s at least going to rest his eyes. At least until Tommy eats and then he can take the bowl back. 

The boards creak as Tommy makes his cautious way across the room. Phil is tired but his heart beat still picks up at the realization that this is the closest they’ve been since the night they brought Tommy in. He opens one eye barely a slit, Tommy is watching him, but he’s also bent over the broth. 

He eats quickly, dipping his face down to the bowl instead of lifting it. The blanket has slipped from around his shoulders and Phil can see his ribs pressing against his skin as he breathes. He’s still so thin. They need to move him onto a more solid diet soon. Maybe some rice in the broth. That would be good. Even a few bits of chicken. 

Tommy sits up, licking his lips as the last few drops of broth slip down his chin. He eyes Phil with true curiosity, not clouded by fear or wariness. He must think that Phil is asleep. There is such intelligence in his eyes, not that Phil thought he was in any way stupid, but it was hard to see when he has only been afraid. But there is curiosity there, the desire to know, the need to learn. 

It must have taken a lot of ingenuity for a child to live in the woods on their own, to worm their way into a pack of raccoons. To survive, no matter the odds. Tommy may not be able to talk, but he’s smart. 

He steps past the bowl, rising into a crouching walk. His feet make almost no sound against the boards as he draws closer and closer. Phil forces his body to stay still, his muscles to stay relaxed, his breathing even. Tommy is close enough that he could reach out and cup his little hollow cheek, still staring at Phil like he is something unknowable and strange. Like he’s never seen another person this close before. 

Maybe he hasn’t, at least not to his memory. 

Calloused fingers brush Phil’s hand, ragged nails dragging against his skin. Phil holds absolutely still. He knows that if Tommy realizes he’s awake, he’ll spook and go back to hiding in his corner. 

Tommy’s fingers return, more confident this time, picking up Phil’s hand and manipulating the digits. Tommy presses his palm against Phil’s, its so small, like a little ember in his hand. Phil wonders if he’s realizing how alike their hands are, wonders if he’s starting to see the similarities between them. 

Tommy sets his hand down, surprisingly gently and Phil can feel the warmth of his body as he leans over him. He keeps his eyes closed, Tommy is too close now to risk opening them. Breath washes over his face--it smells utterly terrible but Phil has fought zombies, he can keep stoic--and he knows that Tommy is staring into his face. 

He takes a deep breath, forces himself to keep steady. If it were Tubbo doing this he’d pop his eyes open and tickle his sides, swing him into the couch and blow raspberries on his belly to the sound of his laughter. But this isn’t Tubbo, this is a boy who’s probably never been tickled, never had the chance to play because he’s too busy trying to live. 

A finger squishes his nose and Phil nearly ruins everything by automatically saying “beep”. Tiny hands rest on his cheeks, squishing them one way then the other--really how deep of a sleeper does Tommy think he is? Then Tommy pries up one of his eyelids, Phil fights not to look at him, to keep his eye unfocused, starting just over Tommy’s shoulder. 

He can see the furrow of Tommy’s brow, the naked curiosity, and maybe just a hint of some kind of concern. Like he really is starting to see the similarities, and starting to wonder about them. Then Tommy closes his eye again and pulls away. Phil waits until he’s back across the room, and then he waits just a little bit longer before opening his eyes. 

He makes a show of ‘waking up’, rubbing his eyes, stretching and yawning. “Sorry to fall asleep on you mate,” he says, glancing at Tommy. He’s still in the corner, but he doesn’t look as wary, more thoughtful. 

He’s pushed the kid far enough for today, its good progress. 

Carefully, Phil reaches forward and grabs the bowl, “gonna have to take this one back with me, but I’ll leave you be for now. Tubbo should be up in a few hours to play with you.” 

He closes the door softly behind himself and brings the bowl back to the kitchen. As he’d expected, Tubbo has fallen asleep on Techno’s lap, Techno has his chin propped on his brother’s head, still reading. He’s got one arm loosely around Tubbo, but the other he’s using to take notes. 

Wilbur isn’t in the room any more but Phil imagines that he’s gone to his room. 

“How’d it go?” Techno asks softly. 

“Well, I think.” 

He rinses out the bowl and sets it in the sink, he’ll do the dishes later, when Tubbo isn’t trying to sleep. “He came up real close, I think he was starting to realize how much we looked alike.” 

“Its not all going to be good you know,” Techno says, looking over his shoulder, “recovery is not a linear process, there’ll be backslides and roadblocks. Probably soon. He’s starting to get adjusted to things, his brain is going to start bringing up trauma once he realizes he’s in a safe environment.” 

Phil swallows, “I know.” He doesn’t want to see Tommy go through that, but it will be inevitable. “Is that what you’ve been researching?” 

“Among other things,” Techno grunts. 

Phil puts a hand on his shoulder, “thank you.” Techno looks away with a grumble at the sincerity in his voice. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

“Something dumb, probably,” Techno mutters, looking intensely at his book as if that will disguise the tiny pleased smile on his face. 

"When you're done with that," Phil motions to the books, "come help me out in the barn, there was something up with the rear axle on the wagon. Bring Will with you."

Techno grunts acknowledgement, "be there in a minute."

Phil nods and turns away, but he pauses in the doorway. “When are you gonna go see him?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Will’s gone, I’ve gone, even Tubbo’s been to see him, the only one he hasn’t gotten a visit from is you.” 

Techno sighs, “I’m the last person he wants to see. You know how little kids get around me, and that’s normal, well adjusted ones.” 

“He’s going to come out of that room eventually Techno.” 

Techno shrugs, “not yet though. He’s only been here a week, Phil, give him a chance to calm down more before we scare him out of his mind again.” 

Phil tilts Techno’s chin up so he’s looking into his face, “not _every_ kid is scared of you,” he runs his fingers through Tubbo’s hair in example, “you just need to give him a chance to get to know you.” 

“In a few days.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Phil warns him. 

“I’m aware.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice now that there are 8 chapters of this instead of 7. I was just going to write a little tiny epilogue and then it turned into like 2k more words lmao. Its all pure fluff too, dw. 
> 
> There were a couple questions in the comments I wanted to address here: 
> 
> first-- how long as Tommy been in the spare room?   
> Its been like a week or so, there was an oops in the last chapter that said he'd been in there a day but its been a week I'm just a Fool who is bad at editing. 
> 
> Second--How old are Techno and Will here?   
> uhhhhhh....probably adults but very young adults. There is no timeline, I started writing this as a DSMP AU but then I was like "wait am I really going to live with the fact that this means Everything in SMP canon happens to them? after all the Fluff I've written? so this is ambiguiously in the world of the SMP except Dream choked on a sandwich or something and now he's dead and there will be no problems ever. 
> 
> As always, thank you guys so much for the wonderful comments, Feral AU has officially taken over as my work with the most comments and I've been shit at replying to all of them because I don't actually know how conversations work but I dearly love each and every one. I hope you guys enjoy the new chapter!

He doesn’t--he doesn’t understand. The Bird One has left, taking its confusing paws and its confusing face with it. He looks at his own paws, they are like those of the Bird One, they had matched up in the way that his paws and those of the clan never had. 

It had been innocent curiosity at first, wondering if the Bird One really had fallen asleep, a dare to himself to see how close he could get. A game. It was only supposed to be a game. 

But then he had taken the Bird One’s paw in his own, laid them together, they have the same soft pads, the same dull claws, pale and pink, not rough and black. They have the same squashed muzzle, with the nose that is too small, the same white around their eyes. 

But he isn’t one of the Terrifying Things, if he were he would have lived with  _ them _ , not with the clan. He is part of the clan. 

But he doesn’t have soft fur, or a long tail, or pointed ears, or a muzzle, or sharp claws, or a hundred other things that everyone else in the clan had. His eyes blur again, stinging in the way that they sometimes do. The way that none of the clan’s ever had. They didn’t leak water, they didn’t have dull teeth or clever paws. 

The Terrifying Things do, though. And he doesn’t understand. 

They thought he was a kit, and he looks like their kit. Is he a Terrifying Thing kit? No, he is part of the clan. He has to be. He has always been with them  _ always _ . There was no one before them, there was no fire, no screams. 

He holds his head in his paws, trying to make the thoughts stop. He wants to go back, he wants to leave. He doesn’t want the warmth and food of the nest anymore. He wants the clan. He curls up in his nest, hiding away from the world. As if the thoughts were a predator he could simply escape. 

He doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t know how to understand. 

*** 

Tubbo wakes up in his own bed, the blankets tucked snugly around him. He yawns and stretches, he can hear Tommy in the next room over. He’s pacing around and talking to himself in low chattery noises. 

Tubbo doesn’t really know why he has to stay in his room, because Phil has said he’s not in trouble. But he’s not allowed to let Tommy out of the room and he’s not allowed to go  _ in _ without one of the others. He crawls out of bed, his new toy stuffed under his arm. He wants to show it to Tommy but Phil said to wait. 

Maybe they can play the door game instead. 

He goes out of his room and stops in front of Tommy’s door. He knocks, “Tommy?” There is no answering chitter. Tubbo frowns, “Tommy are you mad?” 

He  _ did _ leave all day after he’d promised that they would play more. “I’m sorry I went to the market with Phil,” he calls through the door. He waves his hand under the edge, just in case maybe Tommy hasn’t realized that he’s there yet. 

There is a growl from the other side of the door and Tommy smacks his hand. Tubbo laughs, glad that Tommy isn’t  _ super _ mad. He chatters at Tommy, but Tommy still doesn’t chatter back. 

“Are you okay?” 

There’s a sniffle from the other side of the door. 

“Tommy?” Tubbo lays his head on the floor, peeking into the room. He can only see Tommy’s hands and feet. “Are you crying?” 

He shoves his new toy through the gap, “Do you want to hold Mr. Bee? I only got him today but I think he’s pretty good at hugs.” 

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he just sniffs again. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, and he darts down the stairs. There’s nobody else in the house though, he can hear them outside, doing something in the barn. He’s not supposed to go in the barn but Tommy needs help  _ now _ . 

His eye catches on the key to the spare room, hanging by the door. 

Phil said he wasn’t supposed to go in there alone, but he can’t just leave Tommy to be sad in there alone. He’s probably missing his raccoon family. Tubbo chews his lip, glancing again to the barn. They’re always out in the barn  _ forever _ and Tommy is crying  _ now _ . 

He takes the key. 

He kneels outside the door, “I’m gonna come in,” he says, “don’t tell anyone, okay?” 

Tommy makes a sad sounding little noise and Tubbo stands up, fitting the key into the lock. He turns the handle and steps in. Tommy is sitting in the back corner, staring at him with wide eyes, there are tears streaking down his face, even down his chest. Tubbo can see their trail through the dirt. 

Tommy  _ really _ needs a bath, Phil would  _ never _ let Tubbo get that dirty. Maybe the raccoons really weren’t taking good care of him. “Do you want a hug?” Tubbo asks, holding his arms out. He doesn’t mind getting dirty if its for this. 

Tommy stares at him for a minute and then he comes out of the corner. He reaches out and touches Tubbo’s face. Tubbo touches his face too, it isn’t really a hug but maybe that’s what raccoons do. 

Tommy ruffles his hair and Tubbo tries to ruffle his. Only Tommy’s hair is really long and tangled and it feels greasy on his hand. He wrinkles his nose. 

Tommy wrinkles his nose too. 

Tubbo laughs and sticks out his tongue, Tommy copies him. Tommy reaches out and tries to grab Tubbo’s tongue but Tubbo sucks it back into his mouth. “Your hands are dirty.” 

Tommy tilts his head and his throat works, like he’s trying to say something, or like he might throw up. “Y’han’s’r’drty” 

“You can talk!” Tubbo cheers. 

Tommy tilts his head the other way, “Y’c’n’tak” he chirps. 

Tubbo bounces on his toes, “You can teach me to talk like a raccoon and I can teach you how to talk like a person!” he chatters at Tommy. 

Tommy frowns, his eyebrows coming together like Techno’s do when he’s trying to figure stuff out. Tommy stands up out of his crouch, but he sticks his arms out, like he’s dizzy or something. Tubbo grabs him by one arm to help steady him. 

Tommy starts to pull away, but then he stops and he grabs Tubbo’s arm right back. Tubbo smiles and Tommy does too. Its like having a mirror. Tubbo laughs, waving one hand. 

Behind them, the door opens. Tubbo and Tommy both freeze, staring at Phil who is standing in the doorway. Tommy makes a noise in his throat, it sounds scared and angry at the same time. 

“Tubbo,” Phil says, and he sounds  _ so disappointed. _ Tubbo’s shoulders hunch and he stares at his feet. 

“He--he was crying Phil! You’re not supposed to ever be sad alone.” 

Phil takes a step into the room, but Tommy makes a really scared sounding noise and hides in the corner. He curls the blankets around himself really tight, like he had a bad dream. But its only  _ Phil _ . 

“Phil?” Tubbo asks, shuffling a little closer, he doesn’t understand. Tommy looks so scared. 

“Its alright,” Phil says, kneeling down. He holds himself small and tight, like that time he’d tried to coax a cat out from under a wagon so Tubbo could pet it. “Tommy is just a little scared, why don’t you go to Techno and Will, Tubbo, okay?” 

Tubbo looks at Tommy, he’s crying again. “But…” 

“Its alright Tubbo,” Phil promises, “I’ll be here with him, you go now.”

Tubbo bites his lip and nods, slipping reluctantly past Phil and out into the hall. 

*** 

When Techno said there would be rough times ahead, Phil was really hoping that it would be further in the future than this. “Hey, mate,” he says, soft and gentle, he spreads his hands out, “you’re not in trouble, everything’s okay.” 

Tommy presses himself further into the corner, watching Phil with wide eyes. Phil isn’t even entirely sure what’s set him off. 

“Tommy,” he cajoles, and like a miracle, Tommy actually looks at him. He chirps, quiet and hesitant. 

“You’re alright,” Phil soothes, “everything’s alright. I’m not mad at either of you, you’re not in trouble. I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Tommy chirps again, a little louder and uncurls just a bit. 

“There you go,” Phil says, “see? Everything’s alright.” 

Slowly, Tommy starts to calm down, he chirps at Phil ever little bit and Phil makes sure to keep his tone soft, his body language nonthreatening. Then Tommy shuffles a little bit towards him, Phil’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs softly, smiling. “You feeling better?” 

Tommy chirps again, tilting his head, and then he shuffles just an inch closer. 

“What are you up to?” Phil asks. 

Tommy stretches out his hand, looking ready to snatch it back at any second. Phil holds absolutely still, not even daring to breathe. Tommy’s eyes search his face and then he chirps one more time. 

“You want me to hold your hand?” Phil guesses, but he makes no move to do so, “I’m sorry Tommy I’m not sure what you want.” 

Tommy watches him, his hand hovering in the air between them. Slowly,  _ achingly slowly _ , Phil shifts his weight and raises his hand up to Tommy’s. Tommy looks a little uncertain about it, his hand wavers back, but then he reaches forward again and presses his palm to Phil’s. 

He stares at their hands, then looks to Phil’s face. Phil smiles, “yeah, you’ve got real little hands,” he says, “really boney, you need to eat more mate.” 

Hesitantly, like it feels foreign on his face, Tommy returns the smile. Phil’s heart  _ melts _ . 

“You’re alright, mate,” Phil murmurs quietly, “you’re gonna be alright.” 

***

The Bird One is making the mother call at him again, and it isn’t attacking him for being near its cub. He had been terrified when it arrived, sure that it would decide he was too much of a threat. Sure that it would kill him, then and there. 

Instead it had sent the cub away and then called to him. Like  _ he _ was its cub. 

Some mothers would take in kits from others, if they fell still. Was that what the Bird One was trying to do with him? It brought him into its nest, it has fed him and kept him warm and safe and it doesn’t mind that he is near its  _ actual _ cub. 

Maybe he really is one of them. Maybe he is a Terrifying Thing. He reaches out to the Bird One and it reaches back, their paws are the same, but the Bird One’s is much bigger. He doesn’t have wings, but neither do the others. 

Its too confusing. 

He chatters lowly to himself, wishing that he could forget all of this ever happened. He wants to go back to the clan, to live his life as one of them, not as some strange creature. He doesn’t know what to  _ do _ . 

But it doesn’t really matter what he decides, does it? The clan is probably long gone, he’s been here for days and days. They won’t have stuck around. Even if he could find them, could he really pretend to be one of them? Go back to wandering in the woods, waiting for the stillness to find him? 

The Bird One calls to him again and he… 

He makes a choice. 

He chirps back to it, a kit-call in answer to its mother and he reaches out his paw. Just one last time, to see if they really are the same. 

The Bird One hesitates, but then it reaches back to him. Their paws match, pink and soft, with five fingers. They are the same. 

He doesn’t know what it means to be a Terrifying Thing, but if they will let him stay here, in the warmth, in their pack, with the Friendly One, he might not mind finding out. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up on the end folks 😔 one more chapter to go  
> I want to say thank you to each and every last one of you for reading and enjoying, I may eventually come back and add more chapters onto this but we're at the end of the prewritten ones. I'm working on some new stuff with Ranboo now cause I gotta give some angst to The Boy, as much fun as Raccooninnit has been.  
> Enjoy the chapter fam! Don't get ur hearts broken too much by the Ghostbur thing today.

After that, its like Tommy is a whole new person. He’s still a little wary, but he doesn’t huddle in the back corner of the room any time Phil comes in. They move him onto a more solid diet, adding in meat and veggies to his broth. He puts on weight, he even begins mimicking them when they speak. 

Tubbo and Tommy quickly become fast friends. Phil still makes it a rule that he has to be in the room if Tubbo is going in there, but he isn’t afraid for either of their safety. He’s more afraid of what kind of mischief they might get into if left to their own devices. 

He watches them from his seat on the edge of Tommy’s mattress--he’s getting old and the floor is uncomfortable, sue him--as they play with the puzzle game Will had brought down from the attic for them. 

Tubbo has the benefit of having played with something similar when he was younger, but Tommy is quickly catching up. Partially because he doesn’t shy away from flagrant cheating. Phil laughs as yet another one of Tubbo’s pieces mysteriously disappears. 

He hadn’t been sure that Tommy would really get the idea of a friendly competition, but he seems to have grasped it fairly well. At least, he’s grasped the competition bit. Another of Tubbo’s pieces vanishes. 

“Tommy,Tubbo,” he calls, the boy looks over his shoulder with a chirp, “last round and then its time for lunch.” 

Tommy’s brow furrows as he tries to figure out the sentence. He’s made some progress on learning english but he’s still working with little more than a baby’s vocabulary. Phil figure’s he gets his name and lunch at the very least. 

“Awwww,” Tubbo whines, “can I eat with Tommy? Please?” 

“Sorry mate,” Phil says. He would love to let them eat together but there is no doubt in his mind that Tommy would steal Tubbo’s plate and probably make himself sick eating both meals. 

Phil could probably take it away from him, or keep him from stealing it in the first place, but he knows he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to take food from a kid who’s ribs can still be counted. Even if it would be for his own good. 

Tommy finishes his puzzle with a victorious chirr and holds his hand out to Phil. “Good job,” Phil says warmly, he clasps Tommy’s hand with his own. Tommy still isn’t ready for hugs from anyone but Tubbo, but he’s a very tactile kid regardless. 

Tommy warbles happily, “Philll,” he hums, he only slurs the word a little bit, yet another massive leap.

Phil’s smile widens, “Tommy.” 

“Tubbo!” Tubbo cheers. 

Phil laughs, “lunch time boys.” 

Tubbo still drags his feet a bit as they leave, and Tommy warbles sadly to have his friend leave. _Its thirty minutes_ , Phil reminds himself sternly, _just long enough for lunch. They’ll live._

The house isn’t _quite_ ‘baby proofed’ as the older boys have taken to calling it. The attic has gathered quite the collection of things deemed potentially dangerous to Tommy and many rooms--especially their personal ones--have gained locks. There are still a few things to tidy up though, and then Tommy can be allowed out of the spare room. 

There is also one more final hurdle to clear for that. 

Technoblade is yet to keep his promise about visiting. 

*** 

“So,” Phil says while Tubbo and Will eat lunch in the next room over and Techno forces his shoulders not to hunch. “You still haven’t been to see Tommy.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Techno says, keeping his eyes firmly on the book. He’s already read it, he’s already read all of them, several times over. But he keeps looking through them, in case there is any more information in them that might have slipped his notice. 

Phil stands at his shoulder, “mate,” he says in that almost disappointed tone that means he wants Techno to talk about _feelings_. Ugh. 

“I have a lot of things that he shouldn’t get into Phil,” Techno says, not defensively. 

“Mhm. I thought that was what the lock was for.” 

“And I have research.” 

“I thought you’d already read that one.” 

Techno sighs. 

Phil pulls out a chair and sits beside him, hand on his shoulder-- _not the hand on the shoulder--_ “he might be scared of you, but that’s okay. Being scared isn’t going to kill him and it isn’t going to undo all the progress he’s made. He’s a quick learner, once he figures out how big of a softie you are you’ll never get rid of him.” 

Techno makes the mistake of glancing to Phil’s face. He’s wearing that _damned_ compassionate expression, his head tilted down, looking at Techno from under furrowed brows. Just a tiny hint of a smile playing at his lips because he _knows_ that he’s going to win this. 

Techno closes his eyes but its already too late. He’s seen it. 

He runs a hand over his hair. Phil’s thumb rubs his shoulder, “c’mon,” he says, “I know you Techno. You’re overthinking.” 

He is, he knows, but that doesn’t stop him from doing it. He was the one who tackled Tommy into the dirt, who kept him pinned while he screamed and cried, convinced he was going to die. He’d done that, to a little kid. 

Kids never like him, Tubbo is the exception, not the rule, and even he’d been wary at first. Techno understands, he does, he’s a big guy, he’s intimidating at the best of times. Especially when you’re only four feet tall, max. 

“C’mon,” Phil says, nudging him. Techno sighs again, shutting his book because he knows that Phil is done letting him stall. He can give in to his fate now or he can deal with Phil trying to ‘gently persuade’ him. 

“Alright, let me just..” he hesitates. He’s already in casual clothes, he doesn’t have any weapons, there is literally nothing he can do to make himself seem more harmless than he already does. He even has his _glasses on_ for fuck’s sake. Not that he imagines Tommy will have anywhere near the correct societal conditioning to read the glasses as a thing that makes him less threatening. 

He runs his hand through his hair again. “Let’s go.” 

Phil smiles at him, warm and proud, like Techno is doing something much more impressive than going to visit a little kid. Techno hunches his shoulders and just focuses on getting the kid his meal. Gods his family is full of saps. Techno studiously ignores the faint warmth that Phil’s pride brings to his chest. 

A food bribe will hopefully be enough to endear him to Tommy, at least a little bit. 

Phil walks half a step behind him, keeping his hand on Techno’s shoulder. Like he’s a guard escorting a prisoner. 

Techno pauses in front of Tommy’s door, “maybe you should go in first.” 

Phil gives him a look, but he takes his hand off Techno’s shoulder and knocks on Tommy’s door. “Hey mate,” he says as he opens it, “I brought lunch, and a new friend.” 

Techno very much doubts that Tommy will consider him a friend. He’s come too far to turn back now though, he takes a deep breath and steps into the room. 

*** 

Phil comes back, and Tommy can smell the food. He chatters happily. Only Phil isn’t holding the food, is Will with him then? He’s been away for a bit, even though he’s weird he’s nice. 

Only it isn’t Will who follows after Phil, its the Terrifying One. 

Tommy scoots back towards his nest corner with a low churr. The Terrifying One steps into the room and sets the food down. He looks at Phil and says something Tommy can’t understand. He knows the tone though, it is soft, sad. Like Phil had been when he first came. 

Phil replies with his usual calm patience and then he kneels down too, just a little bit in front of the Terrifying One. It does make Tommy feel a little bit better to have Phil between them, but his back is to the Terrifying One. 

“Tommy,” Phil says, and Tommy chirps to let him know he’s paying attention, even though he’s leaning to the side to keep the Terrifying One in his line of sight. Phil is talking, but Tommy doesn’t understand most of the words, its frustrating, their language is so much more precise than that of the Clan, but its very difficult to learn. 

He thinks that Phil is trying to reassure him that the Terrifying One isn’t actually Terrifying. Apparently he’s called “Techno” but that is the only real thing Tommy understands. 

But he has chosen to trust Phil, and trust Tubbo and Wilbur. They all live with the Ter--Techno. Surely he can’t be all bad. He takes a few steps out of his nest and towards Techno. 

Techno sits, still and harmless as a rock, but Tommy knows that he is fast, and strong, and all too capable of pinning him down. A low nervous chatter rises in his throat against his will. 

Phil is talking in the reassuring tone still, he’s got one hand on Techno’s shoulder as if that will show how harmless he is. Techno ducks his head, only flicking glances at Tommy. He says something, his voice is a soft rumble, its kind of nice, really. 

Tommy chirps to him and Techno glances at him again. There is uncertainty in his eyes, like _he_ is the one who is scared. Tommy tilts his head, considering. Then he reaches out and lays his hand on Techno’s other shoulder. Its warm and solid, and Techno is utterly still at his touch. 

He looks up and meets Tommy’s eyes and very hesitantly he smiles. 

Tommy smiles back. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it fam, the final chapter. Or at least the final prewritten chapter, After I finish my Boy Angst (which, yes, Ranboo's stream yesterday totally Destroyed the premise of but canon is a suggestion) I might go back and work on a few ideas that I have for this, but I've also got some other AUs that I'm toying with that might get stuff as well. 
> 
> For now though, this is the end of Feral Innit AU, thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed! This has been my most popular work like, ever. Thank you everyone!

Phil leans against the wall as Techno and Tommy gradually make their peace with each other. Tommy is still a little nervous, and Techno is still a little tense, bracing for fear that Phil is pretty sure won’t come. 

“Have a seat, mate,” he invites, patting the floor beside him. Techno gives him a look that says he would like to leave but Phil pretends that he hasn’t seen it. Techno sighs and sits next to him on the floor, their shoulders brushing. 

Tommy watches them with a tilted head, humming to himself in a thoughtful sort of way. Phil props his elbow on his knee, content to see what the boy will do. Tommy takes a few steps towards them and sits down as well, watching Techno with curiosity overcoming his wariness. 

Techno fiddles with the end of his braid, a long held nervous habit. Unfortunately for Techno, Tommy is a very tactile kid and he mimics  _ everything. _ With a chirp, Tommy leans forward and pokes at Techno’s braid. Techno holds dead still, uncertainty clear on his face. Like Tommy is going to suddenly decide that he is terrifying because he has touched Techno’s hair. 

Tommy is, in fact,  _ fascinated _ by Techno’s hair. He makes a high chitter, leaning forward even more as he runs his hands down the braid. Phil laughs softly, a smile playing at his lips. Techno shoots him another look, this one annoyed, but that only makes Phil’s smile grow. 

And then Tommy  _ yanks _ Techno’s braid hard enough that Techno nearly slams his head into the ground. Techno yelps reflexively and Tommy scrambles backwards with a chitter. Phil throws his head back and laughs, when he pauses to wipe a tear from his eye he is hit with nearly identical looks of betrayal.

It takes him much longer to calm down from the second bout.

When he’s collected himself again, Techno has taken out his braid and is carefully showing Tommy how to weave together a few strands. Tommy watches raptly, eyes tracking Techno’s hands like Techno is showing him ancient magic. There is a constant chitter coming from his throat, like he’s talking to himself. 

Techno finally holds out the half finished braid to Tommy and lets him give it a shot. Its technically a braid, but only by the most generous of criteria, too loose, with flyaways and full chunks of hair leaking out of it. Still, for a kid who’s never even  _ washed _ his own hair, its pretty good. 

Hm. Speaking of..

“Hey Tommy,” Phil says, earning himself a chirp as Tommy turns to look at him. “You want to try a bath?” 

Techno levels a warning finger at him, “no. I am not helping you bathe him. I said I would  _ meet _ him,  _ you _ get to deal with that.” 

“Fine, fine,” Phil says, “he needs a bath though.” 

“Yeah,” Techno admits, he wrinkles his nose at the braid as if just realizing that he’d let Tommy run his filthy fingers through his hair.

Phil climbs to his feet, suppressing a groan because he knows Techno would never let it go. “C’mon,” he waves his hand invitingly at Tommy, “I think its about time you had a chance to get out of here for a bit.” 

Tommy chirps and grabs Phil’s hand, letting himself be led to the door. Phil opens it and Tommy pulls his hand away, clearly assuming the visit to be over. “Nah, c’mon mate, we’ve baby proofed it.” 

With a curious hum, Tommy follows him out of the room. 

He lingers in the hallway, sniffing at the air and the walls. Phil gives him time to adjust, not wanting to overwhelm the boy. Techno sighs and steps past them, ducking into the bathroom to turn on the water. “Good luck,” he says as he retreats down the hall. 

Phil laughs softly and gently prods Tommy towards the bathroom. Tommy lets out a fascinated coo as he sees the bath running, immediately darting over to play with the stream. Well, at least he isn’t afraid of the water, that’s a good start. 

Tommy chases him around the bathroom as he gathers his supplies, a couple of towels, soap, and a pair of scissors. There’s no way that he’ll be able to get all of the tangles out of Tommy’s hair, it’ll have to come off. 

He isn’t really sure that they’ll get to that today but he would like to. If Tommy takes to the bath well and isn’t too stressed out they’ll give it a shot. Its not going to be a pretty haircut no matter what, Phil hasn’t seen Tommy hold still since he was frozen with terror in the back corner of the room. And he definitely doesn’t ever want to see that again. 

The water is running warm now so he plugs the tub and lets it fill. They’ll probably have to change the water out a couple times to get all the grime off. This will be a good start through. “Tommy,” he calls, distracting the boy from his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He splashes a hand through the water, “come see what I’ve got.” 

Tommy chatters curiously and comes to his side to splash the water as well. “You want to go in?” If it were Tubbo he would just lift him up and dunk him in the water, but he doesn’t want to scare Tommy or make this a bad experience. 

“Philll?” Tommy asks, tilting his head. 

Phil smiles, “yeah mate?” 

Tommy splashes the water again, chattering low in his throat. 

“You can go in if you want,” Phil says, “I was gonna clean you up, see?” He dips his hands in the water and scrubs up his forearm. Tommy chirps and mimics him, just like Phil knew he would. 

The water immediately starts to go cloudy, but he can actually  _ see _ Tommy’s skin on his forearm. He’s pale and covered in tiny scars, nothing that would have lingered if he’d had access to real medicine. 

“Now the other one,” Phil says, switching hands and watching as Tommy does the same with a fascinated coo. “Now you’re getting it!” 

Tommy takes the initiative and starts washing all the way up to his shoulder, maybe he’s sick of being dirty, that would be nice. “You want to go all the way in?” Phil asks, making a motion as if to pick him up. 

Tommy tilts his head and Phil gestures from him to the tub, “yes or no?” 

“Yes,” Tommy says, firmly and confidently. Like he’s been speaking all his life instead of for a few weeks. Gods once he’s got the vocabulary, there’ll be no keeping him quiet and Phil for one can’t wait to hear all he has to say. 

He picks Tommy up under his arms and carefully lowers him into the water, Tommy croons appreciatively, cupping it in his hands and bringing it up to his face---”Wait!” Phil says, gently tugging his hands down, “don’t drink that. Its dirty.” He takes the cup he was planning to use to help rinse Tommy off and fills it up in the sink. “If you’re thirsty drink this.” 

Tommy clearly doesn’t get the difference, but he lets the water fall out of his hands and accepts the cup. He drinks for a moment and then sets it aside, he seems to have lost interest in actually bathing and is now simply playing in the water. Its clearing away the surface layer at least. 

Phil lets him splash around,he’s going to have to clean the floors after this but it’s a small price to pay. “Hey mate, let me help you,” he says, picking up the bar of soap, “we’ll get clean much faster with this.” 

He dunks the bar, sudsing it with his hands, to Tommy’s immediate fascination. He opens his hands and Tommy quickly claims the bar, just as quickly losing it to the depths of the murky waters. 

Tommy chatters the way he does when he’s working at a puzzle and immediately begins hunting through the water. Not just searching,  _ hunting _ . Phil watches with no small touch of fascination as Tommy slowly and almost delicately sends his hands searching through the water, like he’s trying not to spook a fish. 

Then he lunges headfirst into the water, mouth open. 

“Shi--” Phil gasps, lunging after him. Tommy springs back out of the water with a highly offended screech, spitting bubbles and what looks to be a chunk of the soap bar. Phil desperately smothers his laughter and fishes out the remains of the bar. There definitely is a bite taken out of it. 

Well, they have plenty of soap. 

Tommy growls at the bar, glaring at it like it has betrayed him. 

“Yeah we can’t really eat the soap, mate,” Phil laughs, “its for washing with.” 

Tommy chatters what is definitely an insult at the bar. 

“Alright,” Phil says, “Lets rinse and call it a day on this then shall we?” 

Tommy pouts his way through the rinse, muttering some dire raccoon curses at the soap bar every time he glances over to it. 

Phil rinses the last of the suds clinging to him and lifts Tommy out of the bath. Tommy seems to think getting dried off is a game and Phil is happy to let him wrestle with the towel a bit. 

Phil leaves the towel draped over his head, laughing as Tommy struggles his way out of it. He seems to have taken the bath well, even with the soap misadventure. He pulls the towel off of his head, pouting at Phil with a low churr, as if asking why he stopped. Phil ruffles his hair. 

“Shall we try our luck?” he asks, turning towards the scissors that he left on the counter. He offers them to Tommy so that he can see them. Tommy chirps, picking them up to turn them over in his hands a few times. He quickly loses interest however, going back to his towel. 

Phil takes up the scissors and wrangles Tommy into sitting on the stool. “Lets finish cleaning you up, yeah?” 

He snips the scissors a few times next to Tommy’s head to let him get used to the noise. Tommy chirps curiously and touches them the first time, but then loses interest. Phil gently places his hand on Tommy’s shoulder to steady him and starts cutting away the thick mats. 

The hair doesn’t even fall away as he cuts it, too tangled in on itself. Gods, its all just one massive clump isn’t it? He snips his way around Tommy’s head as quickly as he can. Already Tommy is getting bored of sitting there and curious about what Phil is doing. It isn’t going to be a pretty job but it will be better than leaving all of this on Tommy’s head. It must be terribly painful. 

Finally, he makes the last cuts and the tangled mess falls away. Tommy’s eyes go wide and he reaches up to the top of his head with a curious chirr. He turns, staring down at the sad little pile on the floor. 

Phil smiles at him, “that’s better now isn’t it?” 

Tommy beams back at him and he looks more like a normal, happy little boy than he ever has before. He’s got that mischievous look about him, like he should have been spending his life stealing pies out of windows. 

He’ll have the chance to do that now, to be just a little kid. Phil can’t help himself, he cups Tommy’s cheeks and presses a kiss to his forehead. “There you are, mate,” he says, soft, maybe a little choked up, “welcome home.” 


End file.
